


Flashbacks of a Fool

by Marzi



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura attains the vice presidency during the fleet's settlement of New Caprica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the epics comm bigbang on LJ. Art by astreamofstars on LJ.

 

The crowd before her was blurry without her glasses on.  
  
A quick pressure at the small of Laura's back reminded her of her task, and she continued to step forward, no longer wanting to properly be able to see the stunned faces of the people. She cleared her throat, and the first row heard her, falling silent. Their silence spread like a wave through the crowd, until it seemed as if she was facing an empty room. The Cylons behind her stepped up to be at her side. One remained close to her shoulder, keeping the gun pressed to her back.  
  
"People of New Caprica," she began, and her voice faltered. Laura took a breath and started again. "Everyone," she continued. "Today, we have been presented with an opportunity."  
  
Forced. Coerced.  
  
 _'I will have no part in dealing with you.'_  
  
 _Frak you Tom_ , Laura thought suddenly. _Frak you and your selfish ideals._  
  
These people needed a leader, and she... She was what? A figurehead? A puppet? A convenient voice box?  
  
"An opportunity, to start again. This planet"-- _this frakking planet_ \--"was the beginning of a hope. Hope, to be free from the Cylons and able to raise our families in peace." _Maybe this is it. Maybe the Cylons don't come back and..._ Her voice left. It didn't break, or fade, sound simply ceased to pass through her lips. Would they be able to see her tears from this distance?  
  
At her prolonged silence, the barrel of the gun was shoved again into the small of her back, a quick bruise, a lingering reminder.  
  
She cleared her throat and continued, hoping that in bringing up a hand to cover her cough, no one would notice her wiping her cheeks. "The Cylons have not come to instill fear, or do us harm. They have come... to help us." She took another breath, preparing herself for the next words to come. "We--" who was we? The survivors? The parents? The soldiers? The last remnants of what passed as humanity? "--must graciously accept such a freely given offer."  
  
Silence greeted her. Had she spoken loud enough to be heard? A low murmur began before the mass of people was shouting. She wasn't sure if it was joy, fear or rage. Some appeared to be clapping awkwardly, while others seemed too stunned to move.  
  
Laura closed her eyes as the crowd grew louder, snapping them open when a strange shriek reached her ears.  
  
Some other noise broke out amidst the chaos, oddly familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Distinguishing the sound didn't seem all that important. She was laying down after all, and if she was laying down...  
  
 _Oh._ When did she fall onto the stage? Had the Cylons been unhappy with her speech? They hadn't given her much time to prepare.  
  
And, oh- _oh._ She was bleeding.  
  
Laura recognized the sound of gunfire, even though the retort had long since been drowned out of her ears. The scream that had made her open her eyes had been that of “Traitor!”  
  
A human had shot her.  
  
Something was incredibly funny, as she started laughing.  


* * *

  
  
 _98 days before the Occupation_  
  
Laura couldn't recall the Vice President ever entering her school house- well, tent. The fact that Zarek had decided to unobtrusively loiter in the back rather than usurp her students’ focus and bask in some form of attention was also unusual. Once the kids were set to diligently scribbling on their paper scraps, she told Maya to keep an eye on things while she slipped outside to speak with the politician.  
  
The wind made her narrow her eyes and jam her hands into the warmth of her armpits.  
  
"What do you want, Tom?" she demanded, staring out across the street rather than at him.  
  
He sighed, and she could see his tie fluttering off of his chest. "You to be VP."  
  
Laura turned sharply to face him. "Don't be a prick," she said before she could stop herself. "If all you're going to do is waste my time-"  
  
"Baltar's dead."  
  
She froze, lips still parted as she contemplated finishing her rant. "What?" slipped out instead.  
  
He looked amused at her response, taking his time in an attempt to smooth down his tie before replying. "Those pills he kept scattered around? He finally knocked back a couple you shouldn't mix."  
  
"He OD'd?" Laura couldn't keep the incredulousness out of her voice.  
  
"Yeah." Tom offered her a tiny smile.  
  
She took a moment to process the probability of that happening. It was rather high. "Why are you telling me?"  
  
"I figured I should have a strong candidate in place for VP before making any public announcement, our current next in line isn't very inspiring. Who knows how people are going to react? Some will mourn Baltar, others are going to be.. less than devastated. There could be celebrating."  
  
She knew which group he fell into; he looked far too amused for a man announcing the death of a former running mate.  
  
Despite agreeing with Tom's prediction of the settlement responding to Baltar’s death with a public celebration, she didn't appreciate his callousness. His unfeeling response baited her dormant emotions, demanding that she react in some way to the loss of life. That she react in some way to the death of the man who had given, and taken, so much from her. She attacked him rather than face her confusion on the matter. "You honestly expect me to jump back into politics? Under you?" She immediately felt her cheeks begin to burn when she realized her poor choice of words.  
  
A smirk stretched his face, but he wisely said nothing of her double entendre. "I'm giving you a chance to make a difference, Laura."  
  
"I am making a difference. Right here."  
  
The wind threatened to loosen the hastily tied knots that kept the school tent closed. She could hear Maya speaking to the class through the canvas walls.  
  
"Yes, shaping the minds of the future generations." Tom's focus turned to the tent rather than her. "There aren't going to be future generations if things continue the way they have." His tone was sincere, not laced with the normal amusement he seemed to find in all things.  
  
"If we stay on this godsdamned planet," she replied.  
  
Tom pursed his lips. "I don't think even these past nine months could convince people to go back into space, Laura."  
  
"So what? You expect me to step into office and act as the next figurehead of false hopes, while more people die on this planet?" She stomped her feet in an effort to bring warmth to her numb toes.  
  
"This planet is habitable," he insisted. "Under the proper care, it could thrive."  
  
"Proper care? Do you honestly believe that's all it will take?" Laura scoffed. "What makes you think I could do that? Is the top not what you thought it would be, Tom, now that you have forty thousand hungry, already free- people demanding something?" She was deliberately goading him, she knew. The petty part of her felt satisfied in pointing out his failings.  
  
"I can help these people." His words were fast, clipped and frustrated. "But I know you can, and want to, as well. Will you?"  
  
She hesitated, staring at him in his suit and windswept tie, mud caked on his once fancy shoes.  
  
"Baltar's really dead?" Laura found herself asking. "You aren't just frakking with me?"  
  
"Yes." Tom laughed. "He's really dead."


	2. Chapter 2

Laura had become accustomed to the cold. The cold of space. The cold of her body failing as she died. The cold of the perpetually dreary planet she had been living on for the past year.

Consistency did not make it comfortable, however.

When hot pain blossomed from her abdomen, she wasn't sure if her gasp was from the sensation of heat, or the agony of her wound.

Though her eyelids were heavy, she forced them open. A light blinded her, and she quickly let them fall closed again. Why were there always lights shining in her face while she was dying?

She was dying, wasn't she?

Another stab of pain flared out, and she moaned.

"Frak, she doesn't need to be awake for this."

_Cigarettes_ , Laura thought absently. Why would she...? _Oh._

"What'd you expect me to do, hit 'er over the frakkin' head?"

"Saul?" she mumbled.

"Do something, Colonel," Cottle retorted.

The sound of hushed cursing drew closer and Laura dared to open her eyes again. The light that had been blinding her a moment ago seemed to be gone. She squinted, trying to understand where the shadows on the ceiling were coming from. When she tried to raise her head to look around, a hand pushed her back down.

"Bite on this," Saul muttered, and he held up what looked like a cylindrical incense container.

When she opened her mouth to ask why, he pushed it between her teeth.

He held her gaze as tears streamed down from the corners of her eyes. She screamed around the little piece of plastic until Cottle announced he had found the bullet.

* * *

_96 days before the Occupation_  
Baltar's Memorial

"I always thought it would be my funeral people would be attending."

"A rather self-centered thought," Tom chided, though his eyes danced with glee.

He had been in high spirits ever since he had been sworn in, and Laura doubted anything she said could bring him down from his power-induced buzz.

She gave a halfhearted 'hmph' before continuing. "As the one at the top of the political food chain then, I believe I was allowed."

"What's it like, being brought back up that chain?"

_A lot like I just frakked Adar behind an unlocked door,_ she thought sourly, _quick, dirty and no time for guilt or shame_.

"I reserve comment until I actually do something with my new-found powers of state." Laura figured that was an incredibly more appropriate answer, aside from also being true.

"You have done something, Laura." Tom placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

She grimaced at the gesture, not bothering to remove her expression of distaste as he pulled back. "I don't count granting you political standing."

He dropped his hands to his side before offering his arm. "I'll ask again after the ceremony, then."

Laura slipped her arm through his, but managed to keep the rest of her body as far away as she could without straining her shoulder. They stepped out of the tent quickly, keeping up the pace as they headed towards the platform that had been erected for the memorial. Neither wanted to be in the cold for longer than they had to. Laura was glad of the weather for the single reason that it would shorten Tom's speech.

After climbing the few steps of the stage, she took her arm from his and hung back as he moved to the podium. The people before him were mostly a mass of disorganized civilians, but a tiny, neat square of military dress grays stood out in the corner. The Admiral had sent some of them, though if the man himself was there, she couldn't spot him.

He had been unhappy with Baltar, but worked with him because the people had elected him. Laura had tried to keep her mind from it, but Bill bowing out to protocol reminded her of the whole Cain debacle. He hadn't carried out her order of assassination, and then had taken it upon himself to talk her down from stealing the election. The thought that Bill could subvert their hard-won democracy by refusing to support Zarek made her want to cry 'hypocrite', or perhaps 'petulant schoolboy'. Her reasons for removing Baltar and Cain hadn't been personal, yet she had never gotten a decent answer as to his dislike of Zarek other than 'terrorist'; however well deserved that was.

That her supposed influence over Bill was very likely one of the reasons Tom wanted her for VP wasn't lost on her. She would be damned, though, if she was going to let the man who had once tried to kill her manipulate her personal relationships for political gain.

She kept her arms pinned close to her chest to try and hold in more heat as she waited out Tom's speech.

It wasn't exactly surprising that the man was a good public speaker, considering the masses he had rallied to his cause in the past, but it always did surprise Laura when she could hear a touch of sincerity in his words. Her own emotions remained diligently apathetic through the prayers and murmured 'so say we all's' that concluded the ceremony.

Slipping from the stage to leave behind both the revelers and mourners, Laura headed back to _Colonial One_ to join the politicians.

* * *

The Quorum had been neglected under Baltar. The whole government had been neglected, really, but the people currently aboard the ship were more interested in making quick, new political ties than actually making suggestions to improve the damages.

No one at this gathering was making much of an effort to mourn her successor.

Laura let her eyes drift over the crowd, amused by people's reluctance to approach her. Apparently Zarek hadn't conferred with anyone about making her his VP, and had simply been relying on their desperation to please him in order to get her elected. It had been a little disheartening to see this strategy work, but Laura knew it wouldn't be long before Baltar's conditioning of the Quorum wore off and they were back to cutting deals and not offering up assurances. Zarek was obviously saving his energy for the fights to come.

Swirling the drink in her hand, Laura eyed the sparse offerings on the drinks cart. How much longer would it be before the politicians would be forced to drink the local hooch?

"There you are."

A smile slide onto her face as she turned to face the voice's owner. "Admiral," she said. Her eyes quickly flickered down his body, taking in his dress grays. "Didn't think you were coming."

"My raptor was delayed."

She raised an eyebrow, and his mustache did a rather marvelous job at hiding the conspiratorial curl to his lip.

"I see," she murmured over the rim of her glass. Laura could see Zarek smirking in her direction. Fighting a scowl, she turned her focus back to Bill.

He had caught her line of sight, and was frowning when his eyes returned to her. "Is this what you want?"

"It was my decision." Laura's fingers tightened around her glass. "I'm hardly one to be coerced into anything," she reminded him.

Bill chuckled softly at the display. "I remember."

She relaxed, glad to hear fondness coloring his words.

"Congratulations, Laura."

"Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

"Gods damn it, what do you mean he won’t come?"  
  
Laura strained to hear the conversation, but a constant noise seemed to surround her, almost drowning the others out.  
  
"He can't risk leaving right now, and he said..."  
  
"There's nothing he can do," Tigh finished for the other man. "Frak."  
  
"How is...?"  
  
The man's voice wavered, and if he said anything else, she couldn't hear it. Laura cursed mentally, wondering what that noise was and wishing it would stop.  
  
Her fingers twitched before she could manage to lift her hand, and her whole arm began to shake as it lifted the blanket. The noise hitched, and Laura realized it was her own raspy, uneven breaths. Her lungs burned, and her throat felt dry. She could taste sweat and her lips were cracked. Her whole body burned; and she absently concluded that she had a fever.  
  
Laura's fingers found a line of stitches on her lower abdomen, and when she brushed against the swollen flesh around it she couldn't bite back her low moan of pain.  
  
"I was counting on you being asleep a while yet."  
  
It felt as if her eyes were peeling open as she looked up at Saul. He awkwardly nudged her hand away from the stitches, re-adjusting the blanket back over her once he was done.  
  
"I'd leave those alone, if I were you."  
  
"Wha--"  
  
"You were shot, d'you remember?"  
  
Laura licked her lips and nodded.  
  
"What were you doing up there? Do you know what happened to Zarek?"  
  
It was hard to keep her eyes open, so she let them drift shut. "Refused... to, to- cooperate."  
  
"Is he dead?"  
  
"No." She shook her head. "No... no, he's in detention..." Laura bit her lip to stifle her giggle. Naughty school boy Tom got sent to detention by principal Cavil. Her hysteria trapped itself in her chest. Tears started sweating from the corner of her eyes and her voice began to catch. "He could be... he could be. Cavil would kill him. Others didn't, others--"  
  
"Alright, calm down. Frak." Saul sighed. "Go back to sleep," he added gruffly. "I'll talk to you when you're better."  
  
"No." She moaned the word, sounding more petulant than she would have liked. She forced one eye back open. "The others, they said they wanted to help. Not kill everyone."  
  
"Yeah, I gathered that's what they said from your speech."  
  
"Build... better future."  
  
He snorted. "We'll see how that turns out."  
  


* * *

  
  
_78 days before the Occupation_  
Meeting aboard _Colonial One_  
  
"I didn't think I was meeting with you."  
  
"You weren't." Laura flashed him a quick, exhausted smile. "A meeting with the workers’ union is running late. I've just left it myself, someone mentioned you were waiting."  
  
She doubted she was supposed to have overheard the information, but Tom couldn't very well prevent her from going. As long as he stayed and listened, Galen and the others would be pleased.  
  
"Skipping out on very important meetings to see me, Madame Vice President?" he teased.  
  
"You are very important." She had meant for the comment to be lighthearted, but a heavy silence fell in the air after she spoke. Laura quickly lowered her eyes as she sat across from him. "How've you been, Bill?"  
  
She could hear him shifting in the liner's bulky first class seat, but she didn't lift her eyes.  
  
"I've been... alright. It's good to see you."  
  
Falling back into their familiar cadence, she looked back at him with a small smile. "It's good to see you, too." Rather than let another awkward silence stretch out between them, she quickly turned to the reports he had brought. "A requisition for more men to be placed down here. I would think most would jump at the opportunity for some fresh air."  
  
"It's not my men who have a problem coming down here. They would do as ordered."  
  
"But you won't order them." Laura lowered the reports, eying him over the tops of her glasses.  
  
"My ships are understaffed as it is."  
  
"These aren't permanent transfers, Bill. We need more working hands in order to get the greenhouses built. Your men would like to eat, won't they? _Galactica_ doesn't have an unending supply of food."  
  
"Why aren't the citizens here taking on the project?” he deflected. “I thought there was a large enough workforce after the water treatment plant was finished."  
  
"The labor union and the government have come into conflict."  
  
"You mean Zarek has come into conflict." Bill snorted. "I suppose he only kills when it's his people being subjugated."  
  
"These people are his people." Laura kept her tone level as she corrected him. "It's some members of the Quorum who are having difficulty understanding that not everything can be built overnight; and that those working would like some time off. Tom taking over the presidency has given a lot of hope to the people that the progress Baltar promised will actually take place. It's also put him under a lot of pressure to show results, even with the limited time he has had to implement those changes."  
  
"You're defending him."  
  
"I remember what it was like trying to keep the people pleased and alive; two tasks which often do not lend help to one another. Tasks--" Laura stressed the word, "--that were often made more difficult by your lack of cooperation."  
  
"We've moved past that."  
  
"Yes. We have, but I'm not the one in charge now. He needs your support, Bill."  
  
"He hasn't done much in the way of asking for it."  
  
"Because he knows you'll turn him down."  
  
Bill's eyes darkened, his expression becoming guarded. "Is it really such an accident that you're talking to me about this?"  
  
Indignation rose up inside of her, and she did her best not to glare. "You think I'm manipulating you."  
  
That she had stated rather than asked put a wary look on his face.  
  
"It's a requisition, not an order. Deny it and cite your reasons if you want, but don't you dare accuse me of using you." Laura stood, turning away from him and dropping the files on the desk. "If I wanted something from you I would not dance around the subject. As you said earlier, we're past that." She sighed, and nearly whispered, "we used to be."  
  
The silence between them lasted long enough for Bill to stand.  
  
"I didn't mean to question you. With Zarek in charge, it's taken some... adjusting. I have to keep reminding myself he's not amassing resources to take control."  
  
Laura managed to catch the ghost of the words 'from you' at the end of his sentence and her lips twitched with amusement. Seeing her back in a position of power, but not calling the shots, seemed more disconcerting to him than she previously thought.  
  
"It's alright." She turned back around, leaning against the desk and crossing her arms. "All of us are adjusting."  
  
"You'll get the men, Laura." Bill smiled faintly. "I just want them back."  
  
"Don't worry, Admiral. I'm sure they'll be returned to you in good working order."  
  
"They'd better." He took a step towards her. "Or I'd have to write up a formal complaint."  
  
Laura parted her lips in mock shock. "Paperwork? Are you threatening me with paperwork?"  
  
"The HR department could get involved," he deadpanned.  
  
They managed to hold straight faces for several more second before Laura burst into a fit of giggles and Bill cracked a smile.  
  
"Am I interrupting something?"  
  
While Laura brought up a hand to try and smother her laughter, she noticed Bill had immediately managed to switch back to seriousness at the sound of Zarek's voice.  
  
The Admiral only turned partially, so that his back was still facing the President when he addressed him. "I was just talking to the Vice President about the requisition for more of my troops to be sent to the surface."  
  
The Vice President. When Laura had been in office, Bill typically referred to Baltar as 'your vice president'. Though she often winced at the responsibility she had of him due to that possession, she knew Bill had meant to use it in order to keep reminding Baltar of his submissive position to her. When speaking to Zarek, he gave no such possession to her title.  
  
"I hope things are going well. I'd hate to think Laura was laughing at one of your suggestions."  
  
Bill didn't respond, and Laura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't going to stick around if all they were going to try and do was bait each other.  
  
"Now that you're here," she cut in, "I'll turn the meeting over to you. I have a pharmaceutical rationing bill to go over." With one last quick smile to Bill, Laura moved down the aisle past Zarek. Though he had just come from an important meeting with a prominent civilian organizer, he had somehow managed to make it back to _Colonial One_ on his own.  
  
Laura had never been particularly fond of the entourage that followed her during her presidency. She knew Tom wasn't keen on it either, but he had managed to find a way to give them the slip every now and again. She was often tempted to ask him how he managed that particular trick.  
  
Tom turned in the aisle, giving her the space to pass him. "Good work today."  
  
Something about his words nearly halted her steps. Almost as if he had just said 'good work on the Admiral'.  
  
Shoulders tensing at the thought, she gave a small nod of acknowledgment before hurrying on. Maybe it hadn't been such an accident she'd heard Bill had been kept waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

"With Tom and I out of the picture, who's in charge? The Cylons must have left something in place." Laura toyed with the edge of her blanket, fingers restless.

"You should be resting."

"Saul."

He huffed. "They've got the Quorum."

She nodded, expecting as much. "Most of the city is still divided by colony. They'll continue that segregation. Turn us against each other, distract us from the real problem."

"I'm well aware of those kinds of tactics. There aren't any green kids down here who need your lesson."

Laura laid her head back down on her pillow with a little more force than necessary, causing her side to twinge. "For frak's sake, I'm going stir crazy. Let me do something to prevent them from pulling us all apart."

"What? Going to fold pamphlets? Hold an equal rights rally?"

"Frak, you know what I mean. I need to do something."

"Get better. And maybe hold a lid on that mouth of yours." The corner of his mouth curled up. "Who knew you could use language?"

"Twenty years of politics. I know how to swear."

"This isn't politics. This is war."

"They're going to fight with policies and words. Otherwise they would have wiped us all out from orbit. You can't go at this like a soldier on the front line."

He stood, pulling his beanie farther down on his ears, as if to combat the cold, or maybe just her words.

"Get some rest, Laura."

He turned and walked away from her bed.

"Saul. Damn it, Saul!"

She didn't go back to sleep. She was too worked up. Though she barely had the energy to keep herself sitting, she was restless; and hungry after her long bout with the fever the bullet wound had given her. She was still scrambling to catch up, still unsure of how long she'd been drifting while recovering, and Saul wasn't helping. He was just about the only other person she saw. Vague memories of Cottle swirled in her mind, but that was when she was under his medical attention. They wouldn't risk bringing him down unless she relapsed, no matter how starved she got for conversation. For news.

She needed someone who could walk in the city and the tunnels, as well as still be willing to talk to her.

She needed Tory.

* * *

_63 days before the Occupation_

"I didn't realize you were coming down."

"This isn't a scheduled visit."

Laura tucked her folders under her arm, looking towards the anxious aide behind Bill. "It's alright, I can stay with him. Why don't you get the president?"

They had to fidget past an unmovable admiral in the aisle in order to get away. She wasn't sure if Bill was being that obstinate or if he was simply too agitated to know to move out of the way.

"What's going on?"

He turned to stare out of one of the windows. It wasn't very windy that day, and the smoke from the power plant was hanging over the tent city.

"You have to tell me what's happening Bill, or I can't help."

"There's a new bill going to the Quorum."

There were a lot of new bills going to the Quorum. Policy was being written and rewritten with a speed she was sure would confuse the history books, once they got to having history books again. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Granting special incentives for soldiers if they choose to settle."

"They have to choose."

He finally turned to face her fully. "You knew about this?"

"It's for soldiers with families or who are interested in starting families, Bill. We need the incentives to help keep the population growth. To help _start_ population growth; and considering the service record of everyone under your command since the attack, it was agreed the incentives were justified."

He looked away from her, and the tight line of his shoulders didn't relax.

The line about needing to start having babies was on the tip of her tongue, but she held back. He didn't seem to be in a particularly receptive mood.

"Are Lee and Dee thinking about settling?" She moved towards one of the secretary desks, giving him space and looking for a place to set down her things.

"What?"

"I'm trying to understand why you're so upset about this."

"Upset?"

"Is there another way you'd describe how you're acting right now?"

"You told me the greenhouse transfers weren't permanent."

She stifled a sigh, tempted to toss down her things and put her hands on her hips. Did he really need to be so indirect? "They aren't, and any soldier wanting to settle still has to get cleared through you. If your men are forgetting protocol I believe that's a matter that needs to be settled on your end." Laura crossed her arms, turning to face him.

His anger seemed to vanish, and he dropped himself into one of the ship's seats. "Giving them the idea that this could be a permanent home... it seems cruel."

"This is where we are, Bill." She approached him slowly, not sure if she should take a seat herself.

"This isn't Earth."

"No, it's not."

"Are you going to be able to uproot them once this charade with Zarek is done?"

She froze. "What?"

"They've already lost their homes, they aren't going to want to do it again."

"What do you think we're doing here?"

"Surviving."

"Yes." She tentatively took the seat across from him. "Despite the odds, the human race is surviving, on this planet. With Zarek in charge."

"Are we just waiting for disaster? That flood, an earthquake, the Cylons?"

No matter how fuzzy her memory was due to her lack of sobriety that night, Laura could easily recall the heat from his body when she'd curled up at his side, and the words that had so easily tumbled out of her mouth. _Maybe this is it_.

"I'm not waiting for disaster, I'm trying to keep it from happening."

"By waiting to find Earth?"

What was she supposed to do? Ignore the government and pour over star charts? "How is waiting on _Galactica_ so much more productive than what I'm doing down here?"

"If the-"

"If. Is that all we're supposed to base out lives off now? What if? I thought you were past that. This is it. This is what we have."

"You never wanted this for the people."

He looked sad, and it made her angry. "My personal preferences don't win out over them, no matter what disaster could be waiting for us. You used to think that, in fact, you made sure of it."

Whatever thought that had calmed him down enough to let him sit was gone, and suddenly he was standing.

"You can't claim to be fighting for these people when what you want when only lead them to more heartache. Just because it gives you something to do doesn't mean its what they need."

Laura stayed seated, listening to his footsteps as he left, and then listening to the hum of electricity through the ship when they were gone. She was either late, or had missed her next appointment with the Quorum representatives. Getting them to calm down and not take it as a personal slight was going to be a hassle.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Tom.

"I was told the Admiral was waiting?"

"He left."


	5. Chapter 5

She kept her head bowed, but she could still see Saul settle himself on the stool next to her.

"Never thought I'd see the day you were doing something like this."

"Can't say I ever imagined it, but I can't be cooped up here and do nothing to help." Laura held the mess of wires close to the lantern, the heat from the light turning her fingers red. Soon enough she wouldn't need the light. It felt like that anyway. The shape of the detonator mechanism was beginning to feel more familiar in her hands than that of a pen.

"You know why we can't let you out."

"Half the city thinks I'm either dead or a traitor, to say nothing of what the Cylons think. I've seen the way people look at me when I run into them down here." The head of the small screw fit into the dent of her finger left by all the others she had fitted. It only took a few quick twists to put it in place.

"It's why you should stay in that cot, healing."

"I'm as healed as I need to be, and the way they look at me is every reason I need to be out and facing them." She didn't want to turn her head, so she held out her hand. "Give me those wire cutters."

When she opened her fingers to take them, he gripped her wrist. "You know what these are being used for."

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Sabotage. Landing cites for Cylon ships. Destruction of known meeting places where they gather on the surface."

He let go of her wrist. He hadn't given her the cutters. "They were. The targets have changed some."

"You have access to the ships?"

"You're not that naive school teacher anymore Laura. I told you, this is the front lines."

She let go of the detonator and her hand immediately curled into a fist. "There are still innocent people out there."

"Not enough."

"Not enough? If you kill them there wont be enough."

"If the Cylons kill us there wont be anyone."

"And this is the way to do it?"

"You can start folding pamphlets if it'll make you feel better."

He stood and she finally turned her head and glared past his hip.

"I set my own targets."

That stopped him from walking away. "What?"

"My bombs. My targets." She didn't raise her eyes to see his face.

"You clear them through me first."

After he left, it was Tory who sat by her side and handed her the wire cutters.

* * *

_55 days before the Occupation_

"I think that's enough for tonight. Why don't you get some rest?"

"Of course sir, I'll just-"

"I can take care of that. Get out of here, I know your wife is waiting."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Laura didn't look up from her papers, intent on getting through the last of the reports before she went to bed. When the aide Tom had dismissed passed her, she heard her footsteps slow, unsure if she should say a word to her, before her pace picked back up.

"You know, that goes for you too."

"I still have work to do."

"There's always still work to do."

When she heard his chair scratch across the ground, she looked up. Tom had lost his jacket to the back of a chair hours ago, and loosened his tie as walked towards her. When she didn't hear the muffled tread of shoes, she looked down to see only socks on his feet.

"I don't know why you bother telling anyone to go home." She looked back to her papers, underlining a few choice words which needed to be removed.

"What?"

"You already act like this is home."

"My quarters are exactly where yours were when you lived here, and you can't say you never put your feet up."

He laid his hands on top of her papers, stopping her edits, so she dropped her pen. Laura laced her hand together and put them in her lap, frowning up at him.

"Get some rest, Laura."

"Are you telling me I look tired?"

He smiled. "I'm saying I want everyone rested for tomorrow."

"What are you planning?"

"I still haven't gotten Sarah's vote on the new development plans, and without her-"

"You don't get Aquaria, Scorpia or Libran. You're lucky you're Sagittaron, or he wouldn't vote for it either."

"You helped put together that plan, is it so bad?"

"You know it's not. It's good, which is why they aren't happy about not being a part of it. If their names aren't on the plan, they have nothing to brag to their constituents about, and then how will they secure a vote to maintain their seat?"

A grin broke out of his smile, and picked up hands up from her desk, crossing them over his chest.

"Which you already know. What are you planning?"

"I just need everyone in early tomorrow."

"That sounds ominous." She pushed herself up from her chair, straightening her blazer but not bothering to redo the buttons.

"Don't be so negative. I have a hard time believing you were this cynical while you were in office."

"It's your job to be optimistic now."

"Fair enough." His grin faded as he watched her gather her things. "You should leave everything."

"I'll go home, but I still need to get work done. I'll be able to make it in early tomorrow."

"You can put off the work. I want you to get some real rest, and if you can't trust yourself to take a break for the night, you could always stay here. I can keep an eye on you."

He wanted it enough not to let it affect how they worked. It would be a secret he would enjoy too much to expose to anyone. Tom was one of the few people she knew who could stand to know something, and be content that they were the only one with that knowledge. It would be easy enough, falling back into the old habit of sleeping with the one who was on top.

Easy, and pointless.

She stopped gathering her things and buttoned up her blazer.

"Goodnight Tom."

The barest brush of a smile flickered across his face, and his eyes became distant, thoughtful. He took a step back from her desk.

"Goodnight Laura."


	6. Chapter 6

Galen set the last charge, and she followed his shadow as he slowly made his way back to their hiding place. This was the third time they had set out together. He didn't mind hitting targets that weren't living. Laura would go as far as to say he was relieved to have his missions with her, but knew better than to voice it. It would do her no good to try and stir up anything that would countermand Saul's new creed. The amount of destruction she saw on her trips to the surface told her of the many soldiers and civilians who walked out on his command and never came back.

Galen's hand touched against her shoulder as he crouched next to her. "Ready?"

Her thumb brushed against the detonator in her hand. "Yes."

"Hit the switch and lets go."

The had cut their way through the chain link fence around the surface fueling station. It was something she had her eye on for a while, but they had to wait until the fuel wasn't actually pumping through the lines. Taking out the station was one thing, potentially blowing up half the shipyard when tyllium caught fire was another.

They had finally gotten word that the lines were shut down for maintenance. They had to throw together everything in record time to make it within the time frame.

Galen started moving immediately, but she paused a moment after hitting the switch, watching the first burst of light that signaled the charges had gone off. She dropped the detonator and crushed it under her boot as she ran after him, almost falling over when a secondary explosion rocked the ground.

Fuel wasn't supposed to be pumping through the lines.

Galen turned to look back at her, eyes wide with fear.

Apparently Cylons were much faster at completing repairs than they thought.

She saw the look in his eye that meant he had the same idea as her. Unfortunately for him, he was ahead of her, and all Laura had to do was tackle him before he could slow down. That he had still been moving was probably the only reason she had been able to knock him back. Her left arm was pinned beneath him and her slighter frame barely covered him, but at least he was down. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to roll them over, but another blast hit before he could shift them.

Heat and pain scalded her skin, and the air was forced from her lungs. The roar of the flames cut out to be replaced by a horrid ringing in her ears. When she could finally take in a breath her lungs screamed in pain, the taste of smoke on her tongue barely overpowered the taste of blood.

Galen's arms fell away from her body and whenever she tried to move black dots bloomed in the clouds of smoke. She managed to roll off his body and fall to his side, the world fading out for a moment before she was pulled back into consciousness choking on the blood in her mouth.

She wanted to call out to him, tell him to move, tell them they had to run, but the flood in her mouth stopped her, as did an obstruction against her teeth when her jaw feebly moved. Her head lolled to the side and something viscous fell from the corner of her lips. If the air hadn't been on fire it would have made it easier to breathe.

The angry red of the burning fuel colored their small patch of the world, but it didn't account for the red shadows slipping down his body. She tried to lift her head, to see what was on him.

A piece of shrapnel protruded from his throat.

She had to tell someone. She had to...

The thing against her teeth cut at her tongue, and she fumbled for it. Her fingers would not move, but she caught it between her thumb and forefinger, and it slid out of her cheek easily enough. It must have dropped from her hand, because she could not feel it when she pushed back against the wound. Her fingers sank into the bloody mess until her nails clicked against the enamel of her teeth.

She had to tell...

It was too dark. She couldn't think.

She was on fire. It was in her blood and in her bones.

Her mouth was stuffed with iron and cotton, and every moan scratched and fell back down her throat to her lungs. She coughed in place of screaming.

There was light, and it flickered, shuddering across her vision like an unsteady hand held it.

The world got hotter, but her chest grew colder no matter how fast her heart beat. It was difficult to understand, to think, there were shapes in the somewhere.

She had to tell... Cally? Someone. Something had happened. Something had brought her here.

The light came back, steady, unhindered and unusually bright. Then a heavy, warm cloud of darkness.

When wakefulness came she started to see through the haze. There was a room. There were walls in the tunnels.

Where was she?

* * *

_48 days before the Occupation_

"How are Maya and the kids?"

"Doing well. She's really taken to the whole school teacher business."

Considerably better than Tory was taking it, going by her tone. Laura toyed with the cup in front of her, looking past her former aide and out across the bar. "I'm glad you decided to stay and help her."

"Just doing my job, ma'am."

"No, you're not."

"We can disagree there."

"Alright." Laura took a sip of her drink, eyes on the door.

Kara walked into the bar, followed closely by Tigh in civilian dress. Laura tracked their progress from the bar to a table in the back. It was good to see some friendships going strong.

"Maya wants to know if you can stop by."

"The school?"

"She wants you to come see her too, I think she misses the free nights you used to give her while watching Isis."

"I miss having nights where I could sit at home and do that."

"Really."

She turned her eyes back to Tory, frowning. "Really?"

"I believe you're right where you want to be, ma'am."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes."Don't worry, you'll have a job there soon."

"I don't mind the wait. As long as it's a good job."

They shared a smile, finishing off their rounds. Tory stood, brushing the residual alcohol from her lips with her thumb.

"I'll be right back."

"Bring another round."

"Alright."

Her seat wasn't vacant long.

"Hello Colonel. What are you doing down here?"

"Shore leave with Ellen."

Laura raised her eyebrows, her only comment on the lack of his wife's presence in the bar. "It's good to see the Admiral still gives you time off."

He grunted in response.

"Is there something you wanted?"

"As someone who risked court martial for you during the election, I think I deserve some of your time."

She wrapped her hand around her empty cup, wishing it was full. "What do you want?"

"We've spoken before."

"I hadn't noticed."

"About Bill."

She sat back in her chair, pulling in on herself and getting away from him.

"We talked about objectivity."

Her eyes looked past his shoulder, where Kara was hunched over a drink, staring in their direction. "You already have my attention Colonel, will you get to the point?"

"Something happened last month."

She hummed. "Coming to warn me about a coup?"

"What? No." He frowned, shoulders hunching. "It was like that, was it?"

"If hasn't talked to you-"

"He says we're staying, and I thought everybody knew that."

"Everyone except him." She lifted her cup before she remembered it was empty.

"You got him to clear his head last time." He leaned across the table towards her, hands stopped short of reaching her. "Talk to him."

"As far as I know he isn't doing anything, the fleet was at stake last time. What do you expect me to say? Get used to it? You can do that on your own."

"Just talk to him." He pulled away from her and stood. "The last time the two of you had a heart to heart on Founder's Day, he didn't seem to mind the thought of settling."

Laura looked away, staring down at the floor until she was sure he was gone. Tory appeared at the corner of her eye, and rather than retake her seat, she stayed at her side.

"Is everything alright? What did the Colonel want?"

"Everything's fine."


	7. Chapter 7

There was a door, but she never tried it. Even if it was unlocked, she wouldn't make it far. Her whole body ached, and if she took too many laps around her small room, her knee would swell and leave her bed ridden. The Cylon doctor visited her every few days, checking her progress. He told her about the different exercises she should try when she had the energy, and told her to limit her walking. However badly she wanted to combat the atrophied from being bedridden, the skin grafts on her leg needed as little stress as possible.

She closed her eyes during his exams, when she caught sight of the burns and scars along the right side of her body she felt nauseous. He tried to get her to look while he applied oil to the dry skin, and she just squeezed her eyes shut and clutched at the bed with her undamaged hand.

The burns to her right arm were severe, but hadn't covered much of skin, the worst of the damage had been done to her hand. She had kept all her fingers, but their mobility was diminished. He told her there was a good chance she would recover most of their function.

He liked to talk about her improving health, ('we cleared up the infection before we had to wake you up') though he refused to tell her how long she had been kept in a coma. It was several days before they allowed her solid food, making her even more wary of the time she had spent away from the world. Did anyone even know she was still alive?

There wasn't a mirror in the bathroom, so she had no visual gauge for the extent of the damage on her face. She tried to distract herself from exploring the outline of the bandages by running her fingers from her left hand through her hair. It had been cut short, just reaching her chin. The ends were ragged, and she couldn't tell if it was because it had time to grow uneven, or was just a testament to the poor job done of cutting it.

Sometimes her cheek would twinge and her whole face would lock up. She wasn't sure if it was damaged muscle and nerves or her body remembering its scream of pain. She would just wait, doing her exercises with her fingers, until the spasm passed.

The one thing she could not ignore was the ghost of air across her cheek when the bandage was removed for redressing, or the dryness of her mouth. Her tongue would stray to the scar tissue, and before she could stop herself, she would feel the severed flesh and air outside of her body. The first time she had felt it her chest had constricted and she'd fallen into panic. The Cylon kept her drugged for the rest of that day. Groggy and strapped to the bed Laura had only been able to listen as he told her they had been having trouble with the skin grafts on her cheek and simply stopped trying.

She had gotten good at ignoring her arm, but some days, she forced herself to look at the bandages. To imagine the color and contour under the bandages. When she thought about the grafts the Cylons had given her, she thought about taking the nails of her left hand to her skin, and peeling it all away. She had to have been too ill for them to take the tissue from her. What did they have at their disposal for medical purposes? Human or Cylon, the thought made her sick.

* * *

_33 days before the Occupation_

Laura counted to ten as she breathed in, then quickly let the air escape through her nose. She attempted to loosen her grip on the folders in her hand, but couldn't convince herself to relax enough.

This was ridiculous. She had no reason to be nervous. She had every damned right to be perfectly okay with this meeting. Her subconscious was betraying her though, and it had started its fight against her early. Laura had barely slept the night before, and she knew it had nothing to do with the supply inventory she had been going over before she went to bed.

" _Galactica_ , this is Racetrack. I have the ball."

The pilot's voice drew Laura to her present situation, and she silently cursed Tom Zarek. He had been all too smug when he told her she needed to be the one conducting this meeting. Something about how military relations had fallen to the wayside recently, and wouldn't she be the perfect candidate to mend bridges?

_Frakker_ , she thought, ignoring logic. Tom had to be blind or as drugged up as one of Baltar's whores if he hadn't picked up on the uneasy tension between her and the Admiral. He probably got a kick out of watching the two of them at odds with each other, when in the past they had been such a united front against him.

"Ma'am?"

So much for being brought back to reality; the raptor had landed, and she hadn't even noticed. Slipping on a practiced smile so as not to worry the woman in front of her, Laura quickly unbuckled herself and stood. Her fingers were still so tight on the folders she held that when she stumbled getting off the ship not a paper shifted.

Her eyes flickered around _Galactica's_ hanger bay uneasily, unused to the place being so quiet. She moved towards Tigh without delay, not wanting to remain in the suddenly eerie place.

"Colonel," she greeted, knowing that her days of being met by the man in charge were over.

He made some kind of noncommittal hum-grumble before managing to say, "ma'am," in return. Tigh turned sharply and led the way out of the hangar bay.

Laura let him pull ahead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her having to jog to keep up with his deliberately elongated stride.

"He's waiting in the wardroom."

The rest of their walk continued in silence, and it wasn't just because they weren't talking. Laura had only been on _Galactica_ one other time since the command to settle had come down. Then it had been full of soldiers preparing to muster out, giddy civilians and the shouts of pilots who were staying behind. The lack of personnel made her skin crawl. She had thought the lack of the chief's booming voice in the hangar bay had been unnerving.

Laura felt a great well of sympathy rise up inside her, not just for those few who remained, but for _Galactica_ herself. The ship who had protected them, abandoned. Laura understood that all too well. The leader who had given all for her people, even her death ('Clinical death, two frakkin' minutes, don't look so surprised').

She loosed one hand from her papers and began to reach out towards _Galactica's_ hull, only to find Tigh staring at her. She immediately dropped her hand, willing herself not to blush and wondering what the hell he was staring at her for. Looking amused, he moved forward and opened the hatch.

They'd reached the wardroom.

"Thank you Colonel." Laura hurried forward, suddenly determined to see this over with as soon as possible. She had forgotten what it meant to traverse the battlestar's halls in heels though, and tripped in her haste to get into the room. Laura grabbed the doorway before she could fall flat on her face, but her folders and papers leapt to the floor and scattered. "Frak," she said, and nearly swore again when she realized she had said that out loud.

"Get back to CIC Saul, I've got it from here."

"Sir."

Laura crouched down and started to gather up the mess she had just made, not wanting to look at the Admiral due to embarrassment.

_This is just frakking perfect, isn't it?_

A blue clad knee came into her field of vision, which she staunchly ignored. What she couldn't keep her eyes away from was the set of familiar hands that had set about helping her in her task. Once everything was more or less back into a pile, Laura rose to her feet, not taking the offered hand for assistance.

"Thank you," she said instead, clutching the folders fiercely to her chest. "I'm afraid this meeting may take a bit longer, now that I have to sort through all this."

"Take your time." His tone was level, and he slowly moved toward where his own things were laid out.

Laura granted herself a look at his face from the corner of her eyes as she set her things down on the table next to him.

"Why don't we just start and I'll find things as we go?" she started brightly, the forced casual tone making her ears ache.

"I can't afford to give any more men to the greenhouses."

Straight to business. Good.

"Someone must have misinformed you then." Her fingers hastily flickered through the pile until the word 'greenhouse' jumped out at her and she grabbed the paper. "The work is almost done; your men should be returning home next week."

When he didn't immediately respond, she cautiously raised her eyes to meet his. He was staring straight at her, and she refused to fidget.

She still broke the silence first. "What is it?"

"Home," he reached up and carefully pulled his glasses off. "Laura-"

"Don't," she cut him off, angry. This was it. This was his problem, and he was trying to force it on her.

"Laura," Adama pressed forward anyway, voice gaining an edge. " _Galactica_ isn't meant to be their home forever, and neither is that planet."

"Here we go," she muttered, dropping her paper and turning to face him, hand on hip. "Go ahead, put more words in my mouth. How am I supposed to be reacting again?"

His expression darkened. "I never put words in your mouth."

"You assumed your opinion was mine, same damn thing," she said. "You know what, I thought you understood this." Laura pulled her glasses off, needing to do something with her hands so that she wouldn't grab him. Try to shake some sense into him. "Our ideals of a good home are far from where we stand, but I won't apologize for making do. Just because you're content to sit up here and-" she blindly reached for a word, "-and sulk-doesn't mean everyone around you needs to commiserate."

"That's what you think I'm doing?" Bill's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Sulking?"

"Give me another explanation as to why you've holed yourself up," she challenged.

"What I'm doing up here, Madame Vice President, is protecting you and that frakking mudball you never even wanted to settle on! I can hardly abandon my post when there aren't enough men and women here in the first place!"

"Not enough? Just numbers for you now, is it?" Turning back to her folders, she threw her glasses down and furiously began to pull apart her papers. "Here's something that'll frakking cheer you up then! People, down there, want to enlist. You get to train a whole new gang of little soldiers to putter around in this damned tin can with you!" Unable to find what she was looking for, Laura slammed her hands down onto the table.

Bill hung back, and Laura wondered if her snapped temper was really that shocking. Still angry, she attempted to regain control of her breathing, practicing the exercises she had been trying in the raptor.

"Laura..."

She exhaled a sharp breath through her nose. "Shut up, Bill." She needed to find some new exercises.

Silence fell between them until Laura squared her shoulders and turned back to face him.

"I'm done here." She swiped her glasses off the table, hopefully quick enough so that he wouldn't notice the tremor in her hand. "You can go over the proposals I've brought and if you have any questions, we can discuss them on the wireless. I just need your supply reports and I can go."

She wasn't going to waste any more energy arguing. She was just going to leave, tell Zarek his military bridges were well and truly burnt.

"Of course," he replied, voice sounding hoarse. Bill located the folder quickly from the neat stack on his side of the table and and handed it over.

"Admiral." Holding the folder close to her chest, she nodded to him before moving quickly towards the hatch.

She had one foot poised above the deck of the corridor when he called out, "Wait!"

Laura didn't turn around, pausing a moment to say, "I'm tired of waiting," before quickly turning down the corridor.

_That went well_ , she thought snidely.

Her inner voice sounded suspiciously like Zarek.


	8. Chapter 8

When the Cylon doctor said it was time for her to lose the bandages, she tried to kick him in the chest while seated on the edge of the bed. Even if her eyes had been open, she doubted she would have hit him. It wasn't until she was pinned down that Laura realized she had started crying. They fumbled with her sleeve and there was a sting of a needle before everything slowly faded.

After she woke up she didn't move.

Time wasn't like when she had gotten shot. It blurred and stretched and skipped, but it never dragged. The time between sleep and watching the shadows on the wall was punctuated by voices, a shift in her sight as her body was turned to its side, and most memorably, when a tube was put into her nose, making her gag as it went down to her stomach.

When the tube became a regular occurrence, he started visiting. She did not want to move, but during his sermons she curled into a ball, crying when she wrapped her arms around herself and caught sight of the burns on her arm. It made her face seize up when she cried too long.

He never talked about his god, but he had plenty to say about hers.

Laura thought about his visit to _Colonial One_ , turning it over again and again in her mind, wanting a distraction. Why hadn't he just killed her then? What was the point of them keeping her? What was the point of them saving her? Perhaps they hadn't, and this was the hell the gods had designed for her. It was an easy thought to hold on to. It made his visits easier, it made his words fade, and after she woke up on the floor from a drugged sleep with her bed gone, it made her angry.

She dragged herself to the corner of the room and the shaking of her muscles made her burn with shame.

When Cavil visited, she sat up, propped by the wall, and glared at him. He took no mind to her change in position. He liked to compare faith to a delusion, and sometimes it made her wonder if he was a hallucination. She had no idea what they were giving her during the blackouts and her sleep. Did the Cylons really have her? If this was hell, did it matter?

They gave her a plate of food and after eating some of it she tried to crawl to the bathroom, throwing up on the floor halfway there. She curled up and cried, hoping they didn't put the tube back down her throat.

When she was awake and Cavil wasn't there, she tried standing.

It was three more sermons and five plates of food before she could take steps.

She stayed in the corner when he was there, knees to her chest, glaring at where he sat.

She wasn't sure if she hated him, or the gods. If she was dead, were they the same thing?

The first time she was able to walk from her corner to the bathroom, she braced herself against the sink and some rough sound ripped itself from her throat. She didn't know what it was, but at least she wasn't crying.

The sermons stopped abruptly, and the doctor was more agitated than she had ever seen him. His visits were terse, and he didn't examine her scars or ask her questions. The food still came regularly. Someone other than the Cylons had to have brought it to her.

The bed was never returned, and she found herself staring at the door more often. The Cylons passed through it so effortlessly. She didn't want to reach it and find it locked. She slept in her corner, sitting up. If there was ever a time when her body didn't ache, she couldn't recall it. Was she dead or alive because of the constant pain?

They stopped visiting and her laps around the room continued. It was harder to stop moving. Her knee still swelled if she walked too much, but she dragged herself along the walls until she collapsed rather than stop. She would push up the leg of her pants and glare at the burns and scars. She dug her fingers of her right hand into her knee and compare the damage. Her tongue continued to be the only part of her that touched the hole in her cheek.

The food stopped coming the day of the explosions. She stayed in her corner, shaking, while the sounds pierced the walls of her room. Each muted roar reminded her that Galen was dead, she was probably dead.

She was hungry the next day and doing her laps when the explosions started again. Closer. So close, she could feel their shaking in the floor. Before she could make it to her corner, one sounded from the wall, just the other side of the door. There were voices through the sound of fire blasts.

"Get out! _Go, go!_ The ships are leaving!"

Leaving? Leaving? Where were the ships? If there was anything on the other side of the door, could she even get to it? The corner of the room was much closer.

" _Move! Move!_ "

The voice didn't sound like a Cylon she recognized. How was that possible?

"Get to the shipyards! Go!"

It was getting farther away, the non-Cylon voice. She was at the door before she realized. The corner would have been much simpler. Her left hand reached for the handle. She had been using it to eat, and it was still much better at moving than her right. Cold sweat made her fingers stick against the metal. The corner was just behind her.

She leaned forward, twisting her hand, and stumbled forward out of the room.

The door had been open.

The rough sound crawled out of her throat again, but she finally recognized it. It was laughter.

* * *

_3 days before the Occupation_

"I think this has gone on long enough."

The silence on the other end of the comm didn't help Laura at all.

"Admiral?"

" _I'm here_."

He wasn't. He was up in his ship. That had only been enough when they were all out in the stars. When they were all running.

"We need to talk." She leaned back in her chair, frowning over at Tom's empty seat. He had gone out and taken most of the aides within, giving her the opportunity to make this call.

" _Is there a new requisition order, Madame Vice President?_ "

"Is that really how you're going to play this, Bill?"

More silence.

" _No_."

"Good." She looked down to where the phone cord spiraled over her half-read reports.

" _Did Saul talk to you?_ "

"Too long ago for you to be able to blame this on him."

" _It would have been to thank him_."

"Because I called first?"

" _Because I want to listen, and I have something to tell you_."

"I'll take that to be a good sign."

" _Do_."

She smiled, not sure how to take their awkward pleasantness. It had been a long time since they hadn't known what to say to each other.

" _I'm coming down next week, to inspect the surface office_."

She wasn't sure if he made that up, or if it was something he actually did. "Oh?"

" _Will you have time to meet with me then?_ "

"I can try and schedule something."

" _Good_."

"I'll see you in a few days then."

" _Of course_."

"Bill..." Laura toyed with her pen.

" _Yes?_ "

"Just... nothing. I'll make sure to call again and let you know when the meeting is."

" _Alright_."

"Goodbye."

" _See you soon, Laura_."


End file.
